Memories

I remember the very first second I met you. It was Elyse’s birthday. We were upstairs at the Rio, and all of a sudden you walked up to our table, with your big beautiful smile and your warm eyes. I was instantly struck by your presence. As the night progressed, I couldn’t stop looking your way, and soon enough I realized you were looking at me too. Later that night, in the park across the street from my old apartment, we played on the playground, lay in the grass, looked at the stars. It was the beginning of one of the most important, defining periods of my life.

It was a tumultuous road. I was new to it all. You taught me so much and you challenged me daily. I had never been so happy, so fulfilled, so honest with myself and others. Every day was a new adventure. Places I had visited hundreds of times before took on new meanings. I tried so many new foods, wines, and activities with you. I felt free, excited, alive.

Like a river meandering through a valley, your love poured through me. I never wanted to leave.

Remember our first hike on the Fourth of July trail? You asked me if I was scared to hold hands when the plane flew over our heads lest someone may see us. I laughed and squeezed your hand harder.

I remember being inspired by your passion for anthropology. The way you discussed issues you’d explored, classes you’d taken, and professors you’d met simply amazed me. I’d always been more of a logical student, taking classes because I had to or because it made sense to take them. You did everything in your life because you were passionate about it. You loved to learn about other people’s passions; in fact, you thought passions were the keys to one’s soul.

Remember our backpacking trip up to Conundrum Springs? You laughed so hard when I fell into the river while trying to cross on the log. Naturally, you crossed with grace and agility. I made a snarky remark and then quietly pouted while you teased me.

I remember sitting in front of Starbucks, crying together right before I left for DC. My heart hurt, much like it does now. I was beginning to understand the powers of love.

Remember sleeping in front of the fireplace shortly after you got back from Costa Rica? Thank God it wasn’t a real fireplace…you didn’t always have the best of luck with fire! [How many times did we burn pizzas in the oven? You always double, triple checked every dial, and then made me do it. Open close open close the oven door!]

Never have I met someone as beautiful, in every sense of the word, as you. Your smile, your laugh, your spirit, your craziness. I grew tremendously as a result of knowing you. I was a whole new person!

I have so many other memories with you. Painting your apartment (you never stopped blaming me for that green spot on the ceiling even though you knew it was totally your fault), crazy meals with Beth and Katie (deep fried coconut shrimp!), skiing, the moonlight at Walker Ranch the night I got back from Uganda, following you into freezing rivers and lakes, and your neighbor who told us to “SHOOSH” when we were being too loud on your balcony.

Now I sit here, a permanent stomach ache, a permanent heart ache, vacillating between disbelief and emptiness. But there have been many laughs too. Beth, Katie and I laughed so hard the other night about all of your antics and all of the memorable times we shared. Elyse and I laughed about when you took her into nature even though she hated it and she made you carry her home. Beth and I took a walk in the foothills yesterday. It was snowing, like it is right now, and it felt so right to be out there together, in your favorite weather.

There are so many things I want to say to you, so many things you probably already know. I can’t believe I won’t hear your voice again, or see your shining face. Except that I will. And I do now, as I write this. Your spirit will continue to beat within me, much like the beat of the music you loved so passionately.

I love you, Taige, and always will.

Shai